TBT: Can't Go Wrong With The Babies

Look at that face!

Look at it!

Can you believe there was once a time when Calvin had fat around his arms and face?

Now he's all tendon and bone.

Look . . . at . . . that . . . Face!


So a good friend of mine and his wife announced the birth of their brand new bouncing baby.

And not a few months ago, a good friend and her husband had their own bouncing baby boy. It'll be their second, but the first was a girl and that doesn't count.

I have a cousin too who is a new Dad.

Good to know that that is still happening.

Not too far from now, as our ages start to push deeper into the 40yard territory, we will no longer be posting pictures of our children, soon begins the postings of our children's children.

That will be an unfortunate day.

I'm already starting to save up for the jewelry Joann's gonna need to make her stop crying.

I'm kidding.

Joann's not that girl at all.

No, my friends, its gonna be more like a European Tour, or video of me doing laundry.

Anyway, congratulations to them all.

And if there is any piece of advice that goes ignored more than any piece of advice ever uttered, it's this:

Don't worry too much.

As long as you love it and feed it, and something something about keeping it warm and dry, you can't go wrong with the babies.

Concentrate on your own sanity.

And take pictures.

I'm glad I took a lot of pictures of those first few years, cause honestly, I don't remember a single moment of any of that. Being a new parent is kinda like being a black-out drunk for a quarter of a decade.

It was a wild time and you did some wonderful and terrible things.

And yes there was quite a bit of joy, but my god the terror whenever anything weird or unscripted happened, where you seem to jump from crisis to crisis to crisis with nearly no end in sight, because, well, the only end in sight is your own death, hopefully long after you've taken your beautiful bride of fifty years on the european tour.

Cause it never stops.

My big guy can legally buy beer, so shit just got real.

My little guy can't seem to put on weight, no matter how much I try to shovel food into him.

But you know what?

I'm trying not to worry about it.

Cause I love em, and feed em, and something something warm and dry, and though they stopped being cute after that new car smell wore off, they're still babies.

Until they have babies of their own.

And when that happens, I'll be posting
pictures of Venice.

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